English Summer Rain
by Amen
Summary: Someone's burned down Malfoy Manor. And that someone is Draco. Instead of getting sent to Azkaban, Draco is forced to live under survalance in London and work at St. Mungo's, per Dumbledore's request.DN slash.
1. Burned

English Summer Rain

A story about what it takes for little boys to change. 

~~~Prolog~~~

****

(Draco's thoughts in bold)

He had to do it the Muggle way.

The wards around the Manor that prevented magical fires were very difficult to crack or decipher, but the wards against Muggle fire were virtuously non-existent. 

So he bought ten, five-gallon canisters of gasoline and stole a book of matches from a pub somewhere in Whales. 

But before he could do anything he took five items out of the Manor.

The first was a picture, the second a book, the third a long winter coat (although it was June) the forth was a wand and the last was letter written in red ink. They had all been placed in a worn leather rucksack and set on the lawn fifty feet away from the mansion, then he abruptly returned into the house. 

He covered every part of the Manor in the acrid smelling gasoline until the only thing left was the front hallway. He held the can behind his back so that it left a wet trail behind him as he walked towards the exit, the brown liquid lapping at his heels, the path stopping at the huge oak front doors at the feet of the boy with a match in his hand. 

There was a scratch and a hiss and the sharp smell of sulfur and then bright orange and blue and he stepped back to watch, standing a little to close, so that the flames reached for him like fingers, enticing him to move inside their embrace. But he just stared, letting the fire lick and lash out, knowing that he had completely lost control, the heat coming out of the Manor feeling like a punishment, or an awakening.

And that was how the Aurors found Draco Malfoy, hours later, with burns on his face and hands, his eyes and the Manor still smoldering.

CHAPTER ONE

~Punishment~

"Do you know why we have called you here today?"

****

Don't smirk don't smirk don't smirk don't smirk don't smirk don't smirk don't smirk don't smirk

The left corner of Draco's mouth was twitching like mad, but he didn't smirk. Never let it be said that Malfoy's didn't have any self-control.

In fact, for Draco, self-control was an art form.

Except when it came to breaking rules.

That was when rule breaking became the art form.

"Yes."

"Care to explain?"

Draco took a deep breath.

"What would you like to know?"

"What were you doing on the night of June 21st?

Draco couldn't help it, he smirked.

"I was at my house."

"And what were you doing there, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Studying."

"Since you were at your house the night of June 21st, could you perhaps tell the jury how it came to be that Malfoy Manor caught fire?"

"Somebody lit a match."

"Do you know who?"

"Yes."

"Care to share your little secret?"

"No."

"May I remind you that you are under oath?"

"What's the point of being under oath if you don't believe in God?"

"You have not answered the question."

"I did."

"No. Mr. Malfoy. You did not!"

"That isn't what I meant. I lit the match. But you already knew that, didn't you counselor?"

"Why?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Because then I would have to kill you."

The loud banging of a gavel echoed through the courtroom.

"Mister Malfoy! You will not threaten anyone in my courtroom."

Draco turned towards the judge slowly. 

"My apologies." He said, his hand resting gently over his heart, his head bowed slightly, but his eyes raised to the judge's face. Only a Malfoy could make submission look like an insult. 

"Do you know what the penalty is for arson?" the prosecutor asked, as Draco's eyes moved from the judge to a spot on the back wall of the courtroom.

"Yes."

"So you are aware that you could get up to 15 years in Azkaban."

"Yes."

"Draco, why would you just throw you life away like this? Do you honestly think you deserve to spend the greater part of your life in that Hell?"

"Yes."

"And why is that? Why would a boy who is only 16 throw his life away?"

"What life?" Draco said, his voice with an amused lilt to it.

"Stop avoiding the question! This was a senseless act of violence that you knew you were going to get caught for! You haven't, as of yet, given the court a reason why."

"Of you had bothered to learn anything about me at all, then you wouldn't need a reason."

The judge opened his mouth to reply, but the doors of the courtroom opened slowly, admitting one very tired looking Albus Dumbledoor.

Everyone assembled did a very good impression of a goldfish.

"Master Schmeebly," Headmaster Dumbledoor said, addressing the judge. "I request a pardon for Mr. Malfoy. In place of a sentence at Azkaban, I ask that he only be given to St. Mungo's for the summer, as a volunteer."

"Why?" The judged asked.

Draco said nothing. 

"As a special favor to me. Draco can stay in London by himself, just for the summer. Hogwarts will provide him with a flat, but he'll have to get a second job to provide himself with food."

"I don't see how any of this is punishment. He burned his own house down, Dumbledore!"

"For a boy who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, this will certainly be adequate punishment."

The judged seemed to be mulling over the pros and cons of it in his head. Draco was sending Dumbledore a look that pickled toads. (Or the look you would be giving toads if you were trying to pickle them…)

"I will allow this, but I will have workers at St. Mungo's send me a weekly report on your progress, Mr. Malfoy, and I will be expecting a report from you too. You are dismissed. Do not make me regret my decision."

Draco stood up and headed towards the exits. Dumbledore stopped him with a hand on his arm. Draco turned and glared at the old man.

"Don't think that this means I am in your debt. I owe you nothing."

"I didn't say you did."

"Then I've got nothing left to say to you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The flat had to be the most disgusting this Draco had ever seen. Well, give or take a few Death Eater meetings. 

The walls had probably been white at one point or another, but were now a pleasant shade that closely resembled vomit. The pipes, as Draco soon found, provided him with freezing cold murky brown water…and not much else. It was a studio apartment about 600 square feet, with a single dusty mattress on a wooden floor and a metal folding chair as its only decoration. Oh and…it smelled like dead rats…or maybe cats? 

Probably both.

"I am _not_ sleeping here." Draco declared to no one in particular. 

"Not like you have a choice." Spoke the ominous voice behind him.

"Bloody _hell_." Draco squeaked, spinning around only to almost collide with Albus Dumbledore.

"Constant villagence!" Dumbledore reminded him.

****

Completely off his rocker…

"Ahh…yessir. Constant vilagance."

"Well, before you settle in, I'm going to have to tell you some basic rules. They're quite simple. You can do magic only at St. Mungo's and only under supervision. Even then, you will probably be doing only janitorial work, as you are not an experienced Healer or MediWizard. You have a 12 o'clock curfew. IF you break it, you will be locked out of the house and I will see for a harsher punishment for you. You can have a later curfew by special request. Your school trunk will arrive in a few minutes and you will be expected to do all of your homework. You are allowed to go into Muggle London, but only if you are accompanied by someone who knows it well enough and has met my standards for approval. You should know that there are anti-drinking and drug-taking charms on you, as well as a Chastity Spell."

****

So…absolutely no fun at all for the rest of my life. Ever. This _is_ better than Azkaban, right?

"Other than that…you can be very grateful for being a free man"

It was at his point in Dumbledore's rules that Draco's school trunk (which he was quite sure he left at school) appeared in the room with a pop. 

"Ah well! I will leave you to sort through your things then."

Draco waited for the pop and then bolted toward his trunk, crouching down and ruffling through his school books until he found…

****

Oh thank God. I knew the Aurors were good for something. What would I have done if they'd kept it?

Draco pulled out the worn leather rucksack and clutched it to his chest.

Hope lives inside it.

~*~*~*~*TBC~*~*~*~*~

A/N So uh…yeah. This is a very very short first chapter, but the next will be longer. This will probably be a Draco/Neville. It's a bit of a character study for me. I'm trying my darndest to make Draco stay incaracter but still expand and change. And Neville. Oh Lordy, I'm looking forward to writing him. I'm so glad JKR gave him the personality I'd always pictured him with. But I wonder…the movie made him a brunette, but the book says he is blonde, so I'm asking you readers (assuming there are some readers) How do you see him? You'll definitely not change my view of him, but I was just wondering. The title is something I stole from Placebo. I'd suggest you download the song, but its got nothing to do with the story. This isnt a song fic, but music is prominent in everything I do, so expected lyrics or smoky nightclubs or loud concert halls. Sorry for all spelling mistakes, I post on ff.net pre-beta. So read, review and all that jazz. And check out some of my other stories too! Oh and…they uh…don't belong to me. Blah. 


	2. Sweet

Chaper Two-

Sweet

This was it. The death of his adolesance, ever pending, a dark shawdow hanging over, looming and cold. It was a freight train, and his foot was caught in the tracks. Today was Neville Longbottom's sixteenth birthday.

The early summer morning looked like any other. The sun shined and it was unnaturally hot for Yorkshire in July. Neville lay sleeping peacefully in white sheets. 

But inside his mind it was a warzone. His dreams were bloody, chaotic, and left him trembling. This wasn't like his fifteenth birthday, where he dreamt of flowers and presents. No. Something had changed. The shadows had grown darker somehow, and everything seemed menacing, and even in his sleep the paranoia didn't leave him. 

The could be the reason his reacted so violently when he was awakend by screaming. 

Neville was out of the bed in seconds, he had retrieved his wand from the bedside table and was already aiming it at his potentail foe. His wand soon clatterd to the floor when he saw who it was doing the screaming. And that the person wasn't screaming. He was singing 'For He's a Jolly Good Fellow'

"Ton!" 

"Neville!"

"Ton!"

"Neville!"

Ton cut Neville off before he could say his name again. This could go on for hours. 

"Happy birthday, you fucking cunt. What's the reason for you going bloody apeshit on me this early in the morning?"

"Nothing. You just frightened me, is all."

"Oh well, aren't you going to hug your favorite cousin? Or should I expect you to hex me into next Tuesday?"

"Prat." Neville mumbled as he threw his arms around Ton. "You know I wouldn't hurt a fly." He added.

"A likely story! I heard about your escapades at old Hogwarts this year. You may have fooled Gran, but you ain't foolin' me."

Neville blushed faintly and stepped back to get a look at his cousin, whom he hadn't seen since his last birthday.

Antony Longbottem, known as Ton to most people, grew up in Holland and still owned a small home there. He was compact, thin, with black hair that was long enough to hide his eyes behind. Almost feminine in appearance he was often the target of preditors, but Auror training had made him a formiddible apponent. He was Neville's senior by six years and made it his duty to protect Neville. He was also responsible for Neville's introduction into all things Muggle including music, movies, television, and literature. Not to mention fashion. Ton was wearing black trainers, black jeans and a white shirt with something scrawled across it in gray. His leather coat was cradeled between his hip and his arm. Some considered Ton the black sheep of the family, because he was so different. Neville knew that the Longbottoms frowned upon how open Ton was with his sexuality. It wasn't that the Longbottoms were homophobes, they just didn't appreciate Ton's promisquity and his avid prosuing of partners both male and female. They thought he should settle down.

To Neville, Ton was the symbol of everything that Neville wanted to be. 

"Jesus Nev, you've changed a bit, haven't you?"

Ton saw plainly that Neville was no longer the boy he had taken under his wing all those years ago. Neville had lost weight, do to frequent nightmares and stress of the impending O.W.L results. He was no longer cubby so much as solid. He was taller too, and laziness had forced him to let his hair grow out. The dirty blonde strands hung into his face, curling slightly at the end. He wasn't as ackward, or as clumsy. Ton noticed the dark circles under his eyes and wondered just how must damage his fifth year had done to him. 

"Listen, lets grab some food. I've got some really important stuff to tell you. Gran is down in the parlor. Get dressed, alright?" Ton moved from in front of Neville to his dresser drawers, pulling out random clothes and making quiet _tsk tsk_ sounds. 

"Here." Ton said finally, pulling back from the dresser and handing him a gray t-shirt and faded jeans.

"You've absolutly no fashion sense at all. You know that? You've got money Nev, quit giving it to Saint Mungo's and start spending some on yourself. Oh and speaking of Saint Mungo's, are we still going today?"

"What? Uh..yeah. You know, it's tradition I guess. You got any plans for tonight?"  


"Yeah. But you'll have to wait to hear them." Ton smirked and headed out of the door. "I'll be with Gran in the parlor."

Neville rolled his eyes. Ton could be such a child. He got dressed quickly and headed out of the door, making his was to the small salon where his grandmother and Ton were sipping tea and talking.

"I don't know, Antony. Neville might not be ready. He was so shaky when he got home."

"Trust me. It will be good for him. And he'll be closer to his parents. He needs this."

"Need what?" Neville interupted.

"Oh good, you're here!" Ton said excitedly. "Sit down, please." 

"Tea, dear?" his grandmother asked.

"Coffee, if you have any." Neville said. He had never liked tea. 

"Of course." She said graciously, pouring him a cup of conjured caffine.

When he had sat down on one of the many plush loveseats in his Gran's parlor, coffee craddled in his hands his grandmother announced 

"Neville, we need to discuss something with you. As you know, sixteen is a very important age in the wizarding world. It is a time for introspection, a time to reflect on the childhood you are leaving behind. Your time at Hogwarts is coming to an end. Soon you will look into different career paths, into life paths. This summer is a time for you to explore your future. You have mentioned to me before that you would like to be a MediWizard. And so, because I love you, I have gotten you an internship at Saint Mungo's Hospital in London. However, the commute from our home here in Yorkshire to London will be very hard on your nerves without your Apparation license. So Antony and I propose that you spend the summer with him."

Neville looked frantically between Ton and his Gran, who was looking aprehensive, a stark contrast to Ton's sunny smile.

"Ton, you've moved to London? And I'm staying with you? Merlin Gran, that'd be great. Thank you. I mean, wow. London! I can't believe it. Saint Mungo's? Oh wow. Jesus. Wow."

"Yes, dear."

"Happy Birthday, Nev." Ton said, rising to his feet. "Come on mate, pack up your shit. We're leaving today."

"Antony! Such language!" Madame Longbottom scolded.

"Sorry, Gran." Neville said, apollogising for Ton, knowing Ton wouldn't.

He gave her a kiss on the cheek before practically sprinting up the stairs. At last! Escape from stuffy Yorkshire and his tyrannical grandmother. This was turning out to be a great birthday.

"Hurry up, Nev. We've got other plans." Ton was already in Neville's room, pulling clothes out of the drawers and throwing them into a magical trunk in the middle of the room. 

"You've got total crap for taste. Have a told you yet?"

"Shut up would you? Not all of us are masters of glitter and leather."

"Ooh, but I can teach you to be!"

"Ah, and the truth comes out. I see now that you turning me into the model poof is the whole purpose of my coming to London."

"Did you ever doubt it?" Ton quipped, shooting him a vicious grin. "And, know you, med expieriance at the hospital."

"Of course. Was it you that got me the internship or Gran?"

"It was Gran, but she needn't have tried so hard. You've been going to that place for ages. You're pracically already a staff member."

"What are you going to do the whole summer"

"Oh me? I've got a boyfriend."

"Who?"

"You'll see him tonight."

"Are we going somewhere?"

"We're going many somewhere's, sweetheart. It'll be a right night out on the tiles." 

"I'm frightend."

"That's the spirit!"

"You don't mind having to put up with me for the holiday, do you?"

"Hardly! I know there's a party animal hidden somewhere under those tacky clothes."

"You're such a cunt."

"I love you too."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Six hours later, they had packed up Neville's things and had arrived at Ton's new apartment.

"This place is a shithole."

"Your eloquence never ceases to amaze me."

"It's called cleaning, Ton, ever heard of it?"

"It's called having better things to do, ever heard of it?"

"It's called-- oh nevermind! I guess I better start searching for my bed in all this crap."

"Nope. We're going out."

"Now? It's like, three in the afternoon!"

"We've got to get you some better clothes. And then, we start celebrating. And possibly get you laid."

"Sounds like a plan. Have fun."

"You're coming too, crabass, so lets go. " Ton said, dragging Neville by the arm and out of the flat into the street. 

"Ton, I hate shopping. Could you just go buy me some things and I'll hang out in a book store?"

"How are you ever going to learn to dress yourself properly if you're not there when I buy you new clothes?"

"I don't want to learn. Whats the good of fashion? I'm going to visit my mum and dad, and you're going to meet me outside of Saint Mungos, with my new clothes."

"Arg. That's such crap!"

"Please, Ton?"

"No!"

"Please?"

Silence.

"Eurgh! Not the puppy dog eyes."

Soft whimper.

"Alright! I'll go shopping, you go to the hospital."

"Thank you, I love you! See you tonite!" Ton was going to reply, but Neville was already trotting towards the underground. Ton had to take a different line, so he went in the oppisite direction.

The ungerground stop was about a block away from the entrance of the Hospital. When Neville finally arrived all he had to do was nod at Fiona at the front desk to go up. Neville had been going here for as long as he could remember, and Fiona had probably been secretary there for five times as long. He was well known around the hospital, because he was there every Sunday. 

When he reach the rooms where his parents were, he hesitated at the threshold. It was like this everytime. He had to steel himself against hope, tell himself that this time things would be the same as the last time. Nothing ever changes.

"Hello, Maurice!" Gilderoy Lockhart called when he walked into the room. Neville rolled his eyes. He really wished his grandmother would invest in a private room for his parents.

He went over to where his mom was humming softy to herself and twirling her hair around her finger almost compulsivly.

"Hey, mom. It's me, Neville. Remember me?"

She looked at him, her eyes sharp. 

"Of course I remember. Are you here to give me my medicine?"

"No, mom. It's Neville. Your son, you know? Baby Neville? I'm here to read to you, like always. Where's dad?"

"Oh, Frank's gone to fetch something."

"Frank? You remember Frank?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. Handsome Frank. You look just like him. What are you going to read to me?"

"It's poetry. By W.H. Auden. I think you'll like it."

"Yes, I suspect I will."

Neville opened the book at began to read aloud, softly at some parts, sadly or with love seeping through syntax, anger in alliteration. He loved this. This made him happy, seeing his mother smile at him. Sometimes when he read fiction she'd laugh at some of the right parts and it'd make him feel better. His dad always stayed quite, hardly ever speaking, except once when Neville was reading Hamlet and he father started speaking along with Neville. 

He was about halfway through when his mom said, "Lookit! Frank's back." And Neville turned towards the door. 

But it wasn't Frank. It was Draco Malfoy, who was currently argueing with Lockhart. 

"Take the potions, you bloody…arg! Take them, please? You make my job so difficult, just take the goddam potion. It's for your own good."

"No!" Lockhart snapped like an insulent child. Against all reason, Neville felt sympathetic. He knew how to handle Lockhart, so he decided to help. Later, Neville would say that it was just a temporary lapse into insanity. He kissed his mother on the forehead, told her he'd see her next week and headed towards the door. He stopped at Lockhart's bed and said,

"You've got to ask him for an autograph first. It's the only way." 

Draco started and turned towards him. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he snapped "I don't need your help."

Neville raised his eyebrows and left, closing the door behind him. He pressed his ear to the door and heard Draco say to Lockhart, "Oi, Gilderoy, do you think I could have your autograph?"

Neville smirked triumpantly. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ton was waiting for him outside, his hands full of shopping bags. 

"Hullo, Ton!" Neville said cheerily, embracing his cousin and kissing him three times, very close to the mouth. Right, left, right. It was how it was done in Holland. 

"Come on, we've got to hurry. I got tickets to a show and you're not dressed right."

They started walking towards the underground. 

"Alright. Who are we going to see?"

"Some band no one's ever heard of. My boyfriend's in it, though. They're good."

"Great." 

"How'd it go with your parents?"

"Is your boyfriend hot?" Neville asked, changing the subject as abruptly as he could.

"Why, Neville! I knew you had homosexual tendancies under that layer of straight boy style."

Neville laughed, something he hadn't done in a while. It felt really good. Everything felt good. Tonite he was going to get smashed and go to a concert and it will be sweet, sweet sixteen. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N

Well, I was going to put the concert scene it, but then I got lazy. So yes, another short chapter about boring things. Ah well. Soon though. Thanks for reading and thanks to my old reviews. No…go read my other stories. I command you. Okay…I plead with you…

Oh yes, and Ton is a character in the book "Postcards from Nomansland" that I 'borrowed' 

Everyone else is 'borrowed' from JKR.


End file.
